


More Than Forgetting

by hellosweetie



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunkenness, F/M, Forgetting, Gen, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosweetie/pseuds/hellosweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why did you and I never…?”</p><p>Another time, another place, and she and Don might have really been something. But over time, something better than attraction had happened: respect.</p><p>-----<br/>Several months after the events of S6E13, Joan accidentally meets Don for a drink. AU where it was Joan instead of Allison who brought Don his keys that night after the Christmas party (S4E2)....</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firstaudrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstaudrina/gifts).



A cold late February wind pushed Joan Holloway Harris through the front doors of the Ritz-Carlton hotel. Discreetly checking her hair in the glass of a painting, she caught a glance of the clock and sighed as she realized she was 15 minutes early to meet Kate, who was reliably 15 minutes late to everything. Might as well warm up at the bar.

The waiter was already pulling out a chair for her when she saw him. For a split second she debated turning around and waiting in the lobby instead. But the waiter prompted her with an expectant “Ma’am?”, causing him to look up from his glass. Their eyes locked. It would be too awkward to leave now. _And anyway_ , she thought, _I’m not the one who has anything to be embarrassed about_.

“Hello, Joan.”

“Don.”

Only a few months before, he would certainly have gotten up and given her a kiss on the cheek. But now she was both sad and slightly grateful for the two empty chairs between them. They hadn’t seen each other since that bleak Thanksgiving morning. She had heard things, of course, and she knew he had too, but neither party had broached the subject of his returning to SCP.

“I thought you were...away?”

“I was.” A pause. “I…” And for a moment, he did look far away. “I’m back now.”

“Oh. Well, welcome back.”

She hoped he was, truly, back. In every sense. Whatever his faults, Don had always seemed to know how to behave, and what was expected of him--a quality she took pride of in herself and respected in others. But at the end of last year he had been slipping, and slipping badly. It was possible that he had gone too far, even for him. They stared at each other for a second before he broke the silence first.

“Are you meeting someone?”

“I am.” She hesitated. _Well, what could it hurt? One drink._ “But it’s someone who’s bound to be late, I’m afraid.”

The bartender glided over. “What can I get you, ma’am?”

“Mmm...how about a vodka gimlet?”

“Make that two,” Don said, downing the last of his drink. Joan looked at him warily. “No, I haven’t switched to club soda, if that’s what you were thinking. Or hoping.”

“None of my business,” she said tidily, turning away. This had been an awkward mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I’ve been trying out honesty lately, and the results have been...mixed. As you know.”

Well, at least he had brought it up, not her. “I don’t have any ill will towards you personally, Don. It was a business decision.”

“I know, I know, and I’m not mad. I would have fired me, too.”

“We didn’t fire you, we…”

“You fired me.”

“Okay.”

“Really, what other way was there for me to go out? Could you even imagine it, me at a ripe old age, at some office retirement party?”

She had to laugh at that one. “No, I can’t really picture you as the sheet cake and balloons type.”

He grinned. “Nope. Not for me.”

Their drinks came. “I remember the first time you came into the old office,” she offered.

“Oh? You mean after I stalked Roger all over midtown until he gave me a job? I bet you could smell the desperation on me.”

“Mmm, I think that was just the smell of cheap hair cream.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Same thing.”

She did remember his first day. It seemed so far away. Back then he was just another new puppy to be housebroken, a disruption to her smooth routine as office manager. She might have paid him more attention if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in Roger at that point, but she was glad she hadn’t. She had been young, impressionable...that’s how mistakes like Paul Kinsey happened, for goodness’ sake. Another time, another place, and she and Don might have really been something. But over time, something better than attraction had happened: respect.

Her little joke had finally broken the ice. They both visibly relaxed. The past year of mistakes could not be forgotten, but they were able to set it aside, like a package sitting by the door that didn’t have to be picked up again until they left. They each scooted over a chair and set to talking, reminiscing about the old days.

And then he said it.

“Why did you and I never…?”

 

***

She wondered how much he remembered about that night. And what would have happened if she had not been the one to pick up the phone, if Allison had not been out sick. All of the circumstances that conspired to place Joan in the narrow hallway of Don's apartment building, holding his keys.

Forgetting one's belongings in a drunken stupor was not an altogether uncommon occurrence in the world of Sterling Cooper, but for Don, it struck her as disappointingly sloppy. He'd earned her respect for always managing to keep himself together on the surface, never behaving quite as much like an entitled child as the rest of them. But here he was, crumpled in the doorway like a hobo.

“Don.” She jingled the keys. “It’s me, the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

The sound startled him, but he took slightly too long to open his eyes, not fully in control of himself yet. She saw him finally realize that it was her standing in front of him. “Joan...what are you...I didn’t mean for…”

“It’s okay, Don. Better me than poor Allison.” She took him firmly under the arm as he staggered to his feet. “Or did you not even notice that she went home sick this afternoon?”

He winced. “Oh...shit, I…” Now she was just being mean. She could see he was truly embarrassed. The charitable thing to do would be to forget this ever happened. Well, Joan was fine with that. Everyone made mistakes.

“Really Don, don’t worry about it. An excuse to avoid Lee Garner for half an hour? It’s practically a Christmas miracle.”

She held out the keys again. He went to grab them and missed. They fell on the floor and he staggered around, trying to look for them. _Jesus, how did he even get himself home?_ “Don, stand still, I’ve got it.” She swiftly picked them up and put them in the lock. He strolled inside, relieved.

“Do you think you can get yourself some water and an aspirin?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m fine…” He threw his briefcase on the table. She strode into the kitchen, finding a glass and filling it at the tap.

“Now where do you keep your aspirin?”

“Joan, you’ve done more than enough. I’m so sorry.” He slumped down on the couch and she walked over to sit next to him, putting the glass down on the coffee table.

“It’s okay. What are friends for?”

He took her hand in his, raised it to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you.”

There was a pause, just a second too long. He tilted forward, falling more than leaning, and found her mouth with his.

She had thought about something like this, of course. In moments of desperation, it was hard not to imagine it--his face in her hair, capable hands guiding her hips where they needed to go. But not like this. This was not good.

Her hesitation had allowed him to press further on top of her. The stale whiskey smell was overpowering. She pulled back and ducked to the side, gently pushing him back with one finger.

“Oh, honey - Don - no.” She had hoped to leave him with at least a shred of his dignity left, but he was making that rather difficult.

“Joan. Shit. I’m…”

“Shhh. You’re drunk. Get some sleep, and in the morning, this will all be a dream.”

She was used to handling situations like this. It wasn’t a problem--she would simply snip out this piece of cloth and sew together what remained. In most any light, you wouldn’t even be able to tell there was a stitch.

She could already hear him snoring as she closed the door behind her. She hoped that he wouldn’t remember a thing.

*

Their interactions at the office continued, wonderfully, as normal. His mild Monday morning greeting to her betrayed not a hint of anything out of the ordinary, which relieved her greatly--she doubted a single other man in the office could have pulled that off. Either he truly had forgotten or he had simply chosen to forget; it didn’t really matter which.

That was a quality of his that she couldn’t decide whether to mistrust or admire: his ability to do more than just forget. To choose to live in a universe that was a fresh piece of paper, where there was nothing to erase because the pencil had never made a mark in the first place. Eventually that had to wear on a person, but Don always managed to make it look natural. And she decided to make it look natural too.

She was also thankful that poor, lucky Allison hadn’t been the one in Don’s apartment that night. He could very well have ruined another perfectly good secretary. Although with Allison’s marriage to that attentive boy from _Life_ and swift pregnancy a few months later, they had lost her in the end anyway. Both inopportunely and memorably, they had been just about to start her little going away party when Mrs. Blankenship had dropped dead. _She must think herself well shot of the whole crazy lot us_ , Joan thought to herself with a smirk.

So in the end, it never happened. It shocked her how much it never happened.

 

***

“Why did you and I never…?”

“Oh, Don.” She smiled at him, without annoyance, only warmth. He grinned back impishly before knocking back the rest of his drink. They both knew why. And she, for one, was truly glad.

“In some other universe, maybe we did,” she mused.

“Maybe we did,” he agreed as she giggled.  “Joan, I have to tell you how much I--”

“Sorry, Joanie, sorry!” Kate flew in and perched on the stool to Joan’s other side, windblown, flushed, and perfectly innocent of what she had just walked on on. “Honey, I am so sorry I’m late, you would not believe where the cab driver--oh! I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”

Whatever uncharacteristic moment of candor Don had been about to offer was deflated. “Not at all!” Joan lied. “Kate, this is Don; Don, Kate.”

He took her hand. “Pleasure. Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Joan…” She took his hand in both of hers. “It really was good to see you,” he said, kissing her proffered cheek.

“Likewise,” she replied. With that, she smoothly gathered her things, and they walked away.

“And who was that?” Kate asked, fixing Joan with a meaningful stare.

“Just an old friend. A good friend.” She clapped her hands together “So! Where are we going tonight?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi artemis_sparks! Merry Yuletide & I hope you enjoy this! I absolutely love Don and Joan and I hope I did right by them for you :)


End file.
